


The Reason Is You

by MCRmyGeneral



Series: Words I Never Said [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Break Up, Coming Out, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced coming out, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Violence, ultimatum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9781271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: "I just want everybody here to know, I'm fuckin' gay."The coming out scene from 4x11 rewritten, some bits and pieces added here and there. Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from The Reason by Hoobastank.

“That'll teach the queers to try to rape a Milkovich in the prison, huh? Huh?”

Mickey grimaced listening to his father tell stories of his time in prison. He quickly scanned the bar, looking for Ian, looking to see if he'd actually left or not. Mickey didn't see him, which both relieved him and made him kinda sad.

“Speaking of queers.”

Mickey flinched at the voice suddenly behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Svetlana in the adjoining booth, her face smug as ever. 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” He hissed over his shoulder. Svetlana smirked.

“I thought your father should know he did not beat all of the queer out of you. He's _really_ gonna kill you this time,” she said teasingly.

Fear and anger flooded through Mickey's veins. He stood and turned on his heel, ripping the bottle from Svetlana’s mouth and setting it hard on the table. He noticed that some beer had splashed out of the bottle and onto the baby’s blankets, but he didn't care. “Keep your fucking mouth shut,” He warned his raging bitch of a wife, voice low and hostile.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Mickey knew who it was before he even turned around. Ian looked resigned, careful not to let his emotions show. Mickey nodded toward the corner, watching Ian walk away. He turned back to Svetlana, anger seeping through his pores.

“You know, your life right here, right now is as good as it's ever gonna get. You gotta go get plowed all day, yeah, but you come home to a roof over your head and food in your fucking belly.”

Svetlana said nothing, just looked up at Mickey, and he could see his snarl reflected in her eyes.

“I can take all that away with a snap of my fingers. So the next time you think you wanna threaten or blackmail me, I want you to think real hard about your son, growing up in motels that charge by the hour, watching his mother turn tricks in parking lots and truck stops because she's not good for anything else.”

“ _Our_ son,” She rebutted.

“You so sure? Are you willing to bet your comfortable living arrangement on it?”

Svetlana curled her lips inward, and Mickey smirked at her.

“Thought so. You got a good thing going here, and if you were smart, you'd make it a point to stay on my good side. I am the _only_ thing keeping you and your son off the streets. I wouldn't fuck this up if I were you.”

Svetlana swallowed hard. She knew Mickey was right, and she had absolutely nothing to say.

Mikey paused for a second, staring into Svetlana’s eyes. She really was a beautiful girl, if not for the ice in her heart. He exhaled hotly through his nose at her, then turned and walked away, straight to Ian. If he'd have looked over his shoulder, he would've seen her jealous eyes staring daggers at the redhead that was stealing her husband.

“Hey,” Mickey said to Ian.

“I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving.”

“Okay, I'll see you back at the place,” He said, clapping Ian on the shoulder.

“No, don't. We're done,” Ian stated matter-of-factly.

Mickey frowned. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don't have any interest in being a mistress anymore,” Ian said, shrugging.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ. When did you get so dramatic?”

“When I realized what a _pussy_ you are,” Ian snarled.

Mickey's face went blank for only a second, the anger coming almost immediately. He scoffed. “Say it again, I'm gonna kick your fucking ass,” He warned, not sure if he was serious or not, which worried him.

But Ian didn't take him seriously. He smiled, nodding. “Come on. Come on, big guy,” He goaded, stepping closer and getting right in Mickey's face. Mickey fought the urge to hit him. Ian or not, Mickey usually wasn't nice when people invaded his personal space. He laid his hands flat against his thighs to inhibit the urge to ball his fists up, because throwing punches was the next step after that.

Ian knew he was entering dangerous territory, taunting the 5 foot 7 keg of dynamite. But anger was better than the nothingness the boy had been wearing all day. “You think you're a tough man, huh? You're not. You're a coward,” He threw at Mickey venomously.

Mickey's mouth puckered, and he pushed Ian away forcefully. “Fuck you. You don't understand-”

“Oh, I _do_ understand,” Ian cut him off, “I understand better than anyone that you're afraid of your father. You're afraid of your wife. You're afraid to be who you are,” He growled, poking Mickey in the chest.

Ian turned to grab his coat, but Mickey pushed him through the door marked ’EMPLOYEES ONLY’, to the storeroom.

“What the _fuck_ has gotten into you? Are you _trying_ to get me killed?”

Ian looked up at the ceiling, sucking his teeth.

“I hope you know you're acting like a little brat,” Mickey spat at him. Ian still said nothing, pointedly ignoring Mickey, staring past him with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“You're a fucking baby,” Mickey hissed, shaking his head. “You don't get what you want for once, so you're gonna give me a stupid fucking ultimatum? You need to grow up.”

Ian scoffed at Mickey, shouldering past him as he made his way toward the door.

"I forgot; it's _so_ easy to be Ian!” Mickey taunted the boy, “Must be nice."

That broke Ian's stoic stare. He stopped and turned around. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about. Some of us don't have the luxury of walking around waving rainbow flags. Not everybody has the home you were blessed with."

"Fuck you,” Ian chuckled once. “We come from the _same_ shitty streets, the _same_ shitty neighborhood. My home is just as terrible as yours."

Mickey shook his head. "That's where you're fuckin' wrong. The same shitty neighborhood, but our lives are worlds apart. Yeah, your mom split; she's useless. And Frank is an asshole that doesn't give half a shit about you or anybody but himself. I get that. But even still, you got a whole house full of people that love you, care about you. People that support you no matter who or _what_ you are.”

Ian's scowl softened into a frown as Mickey spoke.

“What do I got? A dead mother and a fag-bashing piece of shit father that if you remember correctly, beat us _both_ within an inch of our lives when he caught us together. I got a prostitute for a wife, that sees me as nothing but a meal ticket and a fuckin' green card, and now a kid that's more than likely not mine. You have no idea what it was like growin’ up in my house, listening to the homophobic bullshit that was flung at me from every direction. Don’t even try to compare our lives, because you're just makin' yourself just look fuckin' stupid,” He finished, verbally slapping Ian.

"What about Mandy?” Ian reached, knowing that Mickey was right and he was making himself look like a jackass. “She wants us to be together."

Mickey's face turned from anger to sadness, and his voice dropped. "She's too preoccupied with her abusive fuck of a boyfriend to even talk to me anymore."

"Well, what about me?” Ian asked. “Don't I mean anything to you?"

Mickey sighed, sadness still pooling in his eyes. "Ian, you know you do."

Ian smirked. "Do I, though? A long time ago, you told me that I was nothing but a warm mouth to you. Why should I believe that's changed?"

Mickey grimaced at Ian's words. He was a completely different person now than the thug who had said those words, looking to intentionally scar the boy he'd already had such strong feelings for back then. But after a second, the guilt drained, and Mickey was left with only anger.

"You know, you can fuck right off. I dragged my ass all around Chicago looking for you. Do you know how many fuckin' fairy bars I had to wander through? How many times my ass was grabbed, how many times I was invited back to cars and hotel rooms? I had to fend off hoards of hungry fags to find your coked-out ass. And I didn't have to. I could've left you to turn yourself into the city's best blowjob machine. But I didn't.”

Ian frowned. Again, Mickey was right. Ian was just now realizing that he really should think carefully before picking fights.

Mickey didn't let up. He continued poking holes in Ian's argument, one after another. “I found you, and I brought you home. To your family. To me. Don't _ever_ say that I don't fuckin' care."

Ian bit his lip, a nervous tic he'd picked up from Mickey. He knew he'd not only lost the argument, but he's been completely spanked. He shook his head at Mickey and continued out the door, grabbing his coat on the way. 

Mickey stormed after him. “Well, good. Leave. What the hell do I care, _bitch_?” He spat at Ian as he walked away. But Ian didn't turn around, and Mickey's heart sped up, his breathing involuntarily following.

He looked at his father and his friends playing poker. Terry was the only person that scared Mickey Milkovich. Until he met Ian. But Ian scared him in a completely different way. Terry made Mickey fear for his life. But all Terry could do is break bones and create bruises. Those healed. Ian could break Mickey’s heart, shatter his whole life. He already had once, those months ago when he walked out of Mickey's bedroom. Mickey could've stopped him with two words. He managed to get one out, but his stupid pride wouldn't let him choke out the second, and he hated himself for it. He despised how scared he was of everybody else. He let others run his life to the point that he hurt one of the only people he cared about. The boy he maybe even loved.

He frowned when he thought the word, but it didn't feel wrong. He did, he loved Ian, even after all they'd done to each other. He couldn't let him walk away again. If he did, he might not be able to bring him back this time. As scared as Mickey was of his father, the thought of losing Ian again scared him more.

“Fuck,” He swore softly. Ian was halfway out the door already. It was now or never.

“Hey, can I have everybody's attention, please? Hello?” He called to the people in the bar, pounding his hand on the bar top. Nobody even looked at him. He sighed. _Hey, shut the fuck up_!” He yelled, and someone turned off the music, and suddenly all eyes were on him. Even Ian's. He swallowed hard and licked his lips, his heart buzzing too fast to tell the beats apart. “Since I have all you gathered around me, I got something to tell you. I just want everybody here to know, I'm fuckin' gay,” He announced, like he didn't care who knew it, which he was desperately trying to convince himself was true. He intentionally thickened his Chicago accent to cover the fact that he was shaking and his knees were likely to crumble any second. He expected horrified gasps, confused murmurs, maybe even screaming in the distance. But nobody seemed fazed. No gasps or murmurs amongst the crowd at all. Almost as if nobody cared. Except Ian.

Ian had stepped back inside. His eyes widened and his lips parted in disbelief.

Mickey looked him straight in the eye. “Yep, a big ol' ‘mo. And you know what?” He chuckled humorlessly, “While I'm up here confessing, would you all please turn your attention to the door?”

Ian's brow furrowed in confusion as all eyes landed on him.

Mickey smirked. “You see that fucking asshole that's about to leave?”

Ian's mouth pulled into his small lopsided smile. Calling him out in front of everyone was such a Mickey move.

“That motherfucker right there?” Mickey continued with a sigh to steady himself. “I’m in love with that prick.”

Ian's smile fell completely. Did he really just say that? Or was Ian imagining things?

Mickey nodded softly. “So there ya go,” He said angrily, looking directly at Ian now, everybody else having dissolved away. “Are you happy now?” He asked, his voice thick, the way it was when he was trying not to cry. “That's it. I'm out. You got what you wanted,” He said accusingly. He sounded exhausted. “So please,” He drew in another shaky breath, “Please don't leave again,” He begged, shaking his head slowly. He never thought this day would come, but Mickey was begging. Only Ian had this power over him, and for some reason, that made it okay.

Ian's eyes drooped, and a wave of guilt washed over him. This was what he wanted, but seeing how it had broken Mickey down was bittersweet.

Almost as if nothing had changed, the music resumed and everyone returned to what they had been doing before Mickey's outburst.

Mickey's brow furrowed in confusion. He'd expected a big reaction, but nobody really cared. He mentally kicked himself. He'd been so worried about coming out, but it seemed as if it wasn't a big deal to anyone. He'd been putting this off in fear of the reaction, but there wasn't one.

Mickey's heart slowed and he had time to breath once in relief before his father flew out of his chair, flipping the card table and stomping over to Mickey in anger.

“I'll fucking kill you! You son of a bitch!” Terry howled as he threw punch after punch at his son.

Mickey countered, hitting his father back for the first time in his life. He’d finally had enough. He wasn’t gonna sit and let Terry keep him and Ian apart any longer.

Ian hurried over, throwing his coat away with a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do this forever,” He said happily, pulling Terry off of Mickey and headbutting him.

Mickey smiled through the blood, looking on in pride as he saw Ian attack his own father. But one of his father’s friends countered, smashing a chair over Ian’s back, which made Mickey hiss.

Ian ran at the man, knocking him to the ground. One of the other guests grabbed Ian and hauled him to his feet, spinning him and catching him with a right hook.

MIckey scrambled to his feet, trying to part the crowd with punches to get to Ian, who was actually holding his own against two of Terry's fellow prison thugs. He’d learned some moves in the Army, and Mickey was both proud and a little turned on seeing him unleash his carefully composed facade. Ian was usually very in control of himself, so it was rare to see him let lose that control, and it certainly thrilled Mickey.

Terry unfortunately had also stood, and was grabbing Mickey and throwing him around before he could get anywhere near Ian.

Fists were flying in every direction until a dozen police officers stormed in, grabbing any able-bodied man in the bar they could get their hands on, regardless of if they had been in on the fight or not.

Mickey accepted that he’d be headed for Cook County in just a few hours, and he’d already made peace with it. He simply stood and waited for the cops to get to him. That is, until he saw someone grab Ian.

“Hey!” He yelled, trying to push through the crowd of people, over to where Ian was already in cuffs and groaning in pain as he let the cop jerk him this way and that. He was hurt bad, Mickey could tell. He was letting himself be pushed around, and his head was hanging like he was sore all over, which after the chair to the ribs, he probably was. He wasn’t fighting at all, and that worried Mickey.

“Hey, he didn’t do anything!” He called to the cop manhandling the redhead. The cop ignored him. “Hey! Let him fuckin’ go! What the fuck?” He swore when he felt cold cuffs around his own wrists, suddenly restrained and being pushed toward the door. He fought against the cop, but not in an effort to get away, just to get over to Ian. “Hey, let that one go! He didn’t have anything to do with this!” He called, his words mumbled by the swollen lips and mouthful of blood.

“I got him,” A tall blonde cop told Mickey, setting a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Mickey had seen him before; he was the Gallagher’s next-door neighbor. “Yo, Nunez!” He yelled, and the officer holding Ian looked up. Tony shook his head slightly and the cop immediately uncuffed him.

Mickey couldn’t hear over the yelling and the sirens, but he could see Ian groaning, holding his stomach as he was helped over to an ambulance gurney and sat down. There was blood covering half his face from any number of scratches and scrapes, and it made Mickey sad. He honestly was innocent here, yet he took a lot of the blows.

“Where’s that fucking faggot? Let me go!” Mickey heard Terry screaming from beside him. He didn’t know where he was, but he instinctively started fighting against the binds, Terry’s voice making his blood boil.

When he finally saw him, Mickey smiled in grisly glee when he saw that he was just as beat to shit as Mickey was sure he was. He and Ian did a number on that piece of shit.

Terry was slammed against one of the cop cars, and Mickey was slammed against another.

“Fucking faggot! Get out of my house! You pole-smoking queer!” Terry growled, trying to break his binds to attack Mickey again.

Mickey figured that Terry was already going to prison for a _very_ long time, so he might as well have some fun with this.

He smiled through his bloody teeth. “Fuck you! Don't worry about it! I've been staying at Ian's since you've been in the can, bitch!”

Terry growled, and Mickey chuckled. “Guess what we've been doing, daddy?” He teased, loving that after all these years, he finally had a way to hurt Terry. “We've been fucking!” He said with a smile, slamming his hips into the car to give his father a good visual. Terry struggled and squirmed against the officers holding him. Mickey kept smiling. “And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard, and I fucking like it.”

“Let me go!” Terry yelled, struggling even harder. The cops stood him up and started dragging him over to a squad car. He kicked at MIckey as he was pulled past, and Mickey kicked back.

“Fuck you! I suck his dick! I fucking love it.” He taunted.

“Fuck you!” Terry growled, “I'm gonna cut your balls in little pieces and shove them up your ass so far, you grow ball trees, you fuck!” He screamed at Mickey the whole time he was being shoved into the car, and he was still screaming as the car drove away.

Mickey saw Ian flip the car off as it drove away, and it made him smirk. Ian could be a little shit sometimes, and Mickey loved it.

“And as for you,” The cop holding Mickey back said, unlocking his cuffs and standing him up, “You're free to go.”

Mickey’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“If I arrest you, it's gonna be a lot of paperwork, keep me in the office all night,” The cop explained. “I'd rather get home to my husband, Carlos,” He said knowingly, clapping Mickey on the shoulder. Mickey chuckled once.

“Medic!” The cop called, and a young girl in and EMT uniform ran over, ushering Mickey toward where Ian had been a moment ago, where about a half a dozen gurneys were set up in an impromptu ER. She helped him up onto a gurney and started poking and prodding at him.

“Does this hurt? What about this? Can you flex your arm for me? What’s your mother’s middle name?” She rattled off question after question.

Mickey held up his hands to fend her off. “I’m okay, really. I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine,” He insisted, and the girl backed off. He twisted this way and that, trying to look around her to find Ian. He was just here, but now he was gone. MIckey looked around for the boy, frowning when he didn’t find him.

“I have to at least clean the wounds,” The EMT tried to compromise.

Mickey shook his head. “I’ll pour a bottle of peroxide on my head when I get home.”

The girl frowned, but backed away. “Fine. Just rest here while we take care of the other injuries.”

“Hey, listen,” He called her back as she turned to walk away, “I’m trying to find someone. You look at a tall redhead at all?”

The girl shook her head. “What was her name?”

“His. Ian Gallagher. He’s hurt bad, and I need to know that he’s okay. They let him out of his cuffs, but I lost him in the crowd.”

“I can try to find him,” She said, her voice understanding. She knew by his tone that this was important to him.

“Thank you” Mickey said, relieved.

The girl walked away, and he hung his pounding head. Everything was sore, his entire face was swollen and cut up and all he could taste in his mouth was blood. He ached all the way to his bones.

He sighed as he mulled over what he had just done. Out. Three letters, one little word that had always felt foreign to him, like a distant land he'd never see. He knew in the depths of his soul that he'd never have done what he had if Ian hadn't leaned on him, guilted him into doing it. And yeah, it was a cheap shot on Ian's part, but now that it was over, he breathed a little easier. He thought back through the last two years of his life. It seemed like every important event was centered around that beautifully irritating redhead.

Ian had gotten him into a lot of shit: getting shot, going to juvie, getting caught with an ass full of cock, going to juvie again, getting roped into the biggest theft he'd ever been a part of, getting shot again, getting caught by his father, getting - he shuddered at the word- raped by Svetlana. Ian was the catalyst to it all. But Ian also had brought some of the best experiences of his life: his first time sleeping with a guy, his first kiss, those rare moments after sex where they could lay tangled in each other even if just for a minute, the feeling of being comfortable with someone, the look in Ian's eyes after a soft kiss, the way Mickey's heart skipped a beat when Ian flashed that lopsided grin at him, the warmth that spread through his body when it was just the two of them, sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee or the living room staring at a television neither was watching. Mundane moments weren't mundane when Ian was there; they were the building blocks that made it possible for a future together, the two of them. If Ian hadn't popped into his life through a lie Mandy had spread in a moment of jealousy and hurt, Mickey might never have known what real love was.

He sighed, his chest aching. A cold breeze tickled his neck and he shivered. He hadn't noticed the cold before, but now it sunk into his skin and wrapped around his bones. He shivered again and tried to rub his arms, but the aches stopped him. He let his eyes slip closed for the quickest second.

Something fuzzy brushed the back of his neck, and suddenly he was enveloped in something warm and heavy. His coat. He looked up to see Ian behind him, his hands on Mickey's shoulders.

His eyes widened. “Are you okay?”

Ian didn't answer as he walked around Mickey's gurney to the one across from it. He settled onto the gurney carefully, like there was wet sand weighing down his entire body. He moved slowly, deliberately. Mickey was right; Ian was in pretty bad shape.

“That was in one of the booths. It's cold out here, so I figured you'd want it,” Ian explained, his words slow and careful, like it hurt to speak. More accurately, it probably hurt to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” Mikey repeated, looking up through his lashes at the boy.

Ian blinked slowly and nodded. “I'll be fine.”

Mickey chuckled once. “I said the same thing to the paramedic. She was poking me and asking me if this hurt and that hurt. Like I'm a fuckin’ porcelain doll,” He scoffed.

Ian chuckled. “They must not be from the South Side; they don't know what passes for ‘injured’ around here.”

Mickey smiled, though it fell quickly. He groaned in pain, and Ian frowned at the sound. He looked away and Mickey did the same. Mickey hated this tense awkwardness that had settled between them, like they both were chewing on unspoken words.

Two of Terry's friends walked up to the boys, breaking the silence.

“So,” one of them said, “Gay, huh?”

Mickey didn’t answer; he just looked at the guys he’d known his whole life and liked well enough. He didn’t have the energy for a smart-ass remark right now, but he noticed that Ian had clenched a fist, ready to throw down all over again if Terry’s friends didn't leave Mickey alone. But the guys just nodded and, barring one possibly condescending chuckle, they went on their way.

Mickey felt himself relax as Ian's hand unclenched slowly. A sharp pain shot through his jaw when he licked his lips. He stuck a finger in his mouth, certain he'd find jagged pieces of what used to be his molars.

“I think I broke half a fuckin’ tooth,” He announced, mumbling a little due to the swelling in his mouth.

Ian pulled a flask from his jacket and unscrewed the cap. “Yeah, my ribs don't feel too good right now,” He groaned. He hissed at the burn of the alcohol and handed the flask over to Mickey, who drank from it greedily.

“So you really came out, huh?”

Mickey handed the flask back. “I didn't really have a choice, did I?” He said venomously, and Ian frowned guiltily. “Don't get excited; it doesn't mean I'm gonna wear a fuckin’ dress or anything.”

“Nobody fuckin’ asked you to,” Ian said defensively. Then he smirked. “Though you _do_ have really nice legs,” He teased.

Mickey scoffed and chuckled. “You're a fuckin’ dick,” He exhaled, trying to keep himself from laughing.

Ian tried too, but he couldn't. His chuckles were deep and he held his stomach after the first few. “O-w-w,” He groaned, smiling through the pain.

“Yeah, there!” Mickey smiled, “That's what you get!”

Ian's laughter subsided, and he looked over at Mickey, blinking slowly. His gaze was intense, and usually Mickey would look away if Ian looked at him like that in public. It was the look of somebody that was head over heels. That look was worth a thousand words, and it was as if Mickey was just now seeing it for the first time, but he realized that Ian had been looking at him like that for years.

Mickey held out his hand, spreading his fingers. “Come here,” He whispered.

Ian smiled softly before sliding his fingers in between Mickey's and letting the bruised boy gently pull him over to sit beside him, their arms brushing. Ian used his free hand to scratch at the dried blood on Mickey's knuckles.

“Are you okay?” Mikey asked for the third time.

Ian looked up to meet his eyes. “I love you too, Mick.”

Mickey didn't know what to do or say, so he settled on just smiling. Ian smiled back. His face was dirty and blood-stained, but Mickey still thought he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Even bloodied and bruised, Ian was Mickey's guiding angel.

Mickey leaned in softly, mindful of both their battered faces, and kissed Ian sweetly, keeping his forehead pressed against Ian's even after the kiss was over. His lips tasted like beer and blood, and it wasn't unpleasant. But beneath it, he tasted exactly like he had for two years, only exponentially sweeter now. Now that Mickey was out, Ian could be cared for and protected and shown love the way he deserved, the love Mickey had owed to him for two years of insults and injuries, cold shoulders and words designed to cut deeper than blades. Mickey could make up for it all now; there was nothing holding him back anymore.

“Ian?” Someone called from behind the boys.

They both turned to look over their shoulders to see Tony standing a few feet away and looked awkward and remorseful. He knew he had just barged in on a very special moment for the two.

“Yeah?” Ian asked, and he sounded utterly drained.

“We need a statement,” Tony said reluctantly.

Ian groaned, looking defeated, and Mickey frowned. Why couldn't they just let him take Ian home? The Alibi was cleared out by now and most everyone had either been hauled off to Cook County or gone home. He just wanted the night to be over. He wanted to crawl into bed, wrap himself around the boy he loved and fall into a nice deep sleep.

Ian nodded at Tony and stood. He kissed the top of Mickey's head, which made Mickey feel six years old again. His mother would kiss the top of his head when he was a child, and now it only felt right having Ian do it.

“Five minutes, and we can go home,” He promised Mickey.

“Your place or mine?”

Ian smirked. “Yours. Bed’s bigger,” He said with a sinful smile before walking away.

Mickey scoffed in amusement.

Ian fucking Gallagher: beaten, bloody, bruised, but still down for a sexual romp. Mickey leaned his head back and smiled at the starry sky, watching his breath fade into the cold air.

Maybe, just maybe, Ian Gallagher was the best thing to ever happen to him.

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests and prompts! Let me know what you'd like to see [here](http://ieroween1031.tumblr.com/ask)!


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